Endurance.Net Ridecamp Archives

Ah, the year of the campaign(s).  Are ya'll as excited as I am?  I swear, if 
I see another red, white or blue balloon drop I'm just gonna pop.  I never 
knew anyone could get so excited about balloons until I listened to that 
fellow cuss about them not falling fast enough on CNN last night during the 
Democratic Convention finale.  When I was an air traffic controller in the 
Air Force we used to call that a "hot mike."  He was so upset he sounded 
like our Vice President.  God bless America, because, if she doesn't, we're 
all in for some deep horse manure the next four years.

My wife and I recently purchased some land in Tennessee.  Someone once said 
to me Florida isn't really part of the South, and, even though I don't agree 
with that geographically challenged statement, the heat down here is killing 
me.  Land is actually worth an incredible amount in Florida lately, from 
what it used to be, and, pretty soon my former, tiny, little town of Ormond 
Beach is going to look like Disney World.  For me, the wife, and, my horses, 
we've all decided it's time to cash in before the newcomers find out how 
exciting a real hurricane can get.  Time to go cause horses and me don't 
hurricanes and we don't like mice.

Our new home in Tennessee is 25 miles from one of the most beautiful trail 
heads in the Smokie Mountains, where you can travel over 700 miles of horse 
trails and not pay a dime to Uncle Sam for doing so in his National Stomping 
Grounds.  It's one of the few National Parks in the Country that still has 
no entrance fee; it might even be the only one left that is still "free."  
As Martha Stewart would say, "And, that's a good thing."

I love this country and I know most of ya'll do to.  I was actually glued to 
the Democratic Convention (the only way to watch this event was on C-Span) 
from opening gavel to the closing speech by Kerry last nite.  After 9/11, if 
you're apolitical, and, just don't give a damn, I'm sorry, but, there's not 
much hope for you at all.  It's the wrong way to be.  You really need to 
care, if not for yourself, for your children and grandchildren.  Take a 
stand.  Make a choice, and, go with it.  Apathy is one of the reasons why 
9/11 happened in the first place.  I really believe that.  If you really 
feel your vote doesn't matter, well, you're absolutely correct if you voice 
that belief by not voting.  You've eliminated your voice completely which 
kind of takes away your right to complain.  Since I love to complain, I 
always vote.

Anyway, back to the Smokies, the land where time stands still and clouds 
roll in to let you know which way the winds, aloft, are blowing.  An 
endurance rider recently told me, "I wouldn't live there; too many rocks on 
those trails.  Can't train for endurance, you have to do a lot of walking, 
because of all those rocks."  Well,  quite frankly, if what he told me turns 
out to be true; I just don't care.  There is more to life than endurance 
(blasphemy, Howard, complete blasphemy).  The horse must come first, ahead 
of the sport, and, if the Smokies are not good training grounds for the 
sport (I don't believe this, btw), I really could care less.  All I know is 
I can go up there, in the middle of July, when the heat index in Florida is 
105, and, find 58 degree weather while traversing up a mountain over 5,000 
feet in elevation.  Not too many places in the South where that can occur.  
In fact, except for those Appalachian Mountains that divide Tennessee from 
North Carolina, I don't think there's any place else, in the South, where 
you can find 50 degree weather in the middle of July.

I signed back on to Ridecamp after soon discovering I wasn't really dead 
after all.  Seems like my gun powder was made by Halliburton and turned out 
to be talcum powder, not really doing all the damage that it was intended to 
do, even though it did make quite a mess.  My ghost is touchable.  My horse 
still feels my weight when I ride.  I didn't transform into that ultra-lite 
featherweight, no saddle necessary, as I was hoping. As a ghost, I was 
planning on riding sans saddle, sans helmet, and sans clothing.  If you 
can't see me, I might as well ride nakid.  I was planning on wearing a Darth 
Vader helmet to entertain the juniors.  Death, the final frontier; and, my 
horse would love me more dead than he did when I was alive.  Ah, well, maybe 
next time I'll get my powder from a more reliable source.

TEVIS is happening.  I checked the start list and was quite amazed at who 
has entered this year.  Europeans, South Americans, some folks from Japan, 
UAE riders, a guy from Hawaii, two gals from Florida (go Roxanne and Becky 
and Mustang Gorgeous George), the list is incredible.  Both Rojaks are there 
this year too (I wonder if they took that humongous motor home out there 
with them). Take the Biltmore and multiply it tenfold.  What an event!  What 
a show! Barnum and Bailey have got to be looking on.  Be it ever so humble, 
there's no place like Tevis.

My number one hope is all the horses survive this incredible event this 
year.  It really does seem to be larger than life itself.  The horse must 
come ahead of the sport, but, sometimes, this does not seem to be the 
reality the day of the ride.  Excitement is in the air and I wish I was 
there.  Forget politics this week-end and just enjoy the show.  The best 
horses in the world will be there and we're all captivated by their ability 
to endure what we ask from them.  Go, Gorgeous George; go Shar-Po!  And, my 
goodness, Catfish is there too!  I do believe he weighs more than me, in 
that Earl Baxter extreme heavy weight category.  Go, Catfish, Go!

cya,
Howard (a closet Gator living in Tennessee; hey, it's not a coincidence 
their the same shade of orange)

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